


moving along in a pace unknown to man

by Evekle



Series: Turning a new page, tearing the old one out [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Character Study, Constance carries the team!, Episode: s01e01 Friends and Enemies, Guilt, M/M, No thoughts head empty d'Art, Pre-Slash, Vengence is not sweet as it seems, d'Artagnan (Trois Mousquetaires) Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evekle/pseuds/Evekle
Summary: Each step he takes only echoes back onto his mind as the world runs ahead, leaving him in the dust. D’Artagnan can only replay the last few moments of his father in his arms.It’s easy to get lost in memories, easy to remember what he used to have.~~In which d'Artagnan runs off to Paris for revenge only for the world to turn the very thought on its head.
Relationships: d'Artagnan/Athos | Comte de la Fère
Series: Turning a new page, tearing the old one out [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144724
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	moving along in a pace unknown to man

The day his father dies, Charles d’Artagnan’s life turns upside down. 

There’s a moment where the very world seems to close in around him, the rain mocking what he could have prevented. The gascon curses the world above, one thing in his mind: 

He  _ will  _ avenge his father, damn the consequences. 

* * *

Each step he takes only echoes back onto his mind as the world runs ahead, leaving him in the dust. D’Artagnan can only replay the last few moments of his father in his arms. 

It’s easy to get lost in memories, easy to remember what he used to have. 

Just as Alexandre d’Artagnan used to light the hearth on a cold winter’s day, all his son can remember is how everything must come to an end. A fire to a pile of ashes. One moment a life is there, the next moment it’s gone. 

That night, he watches as the beautiful stranger points a pistol at him. Her smile is charming, bright as the winter sun. It’s blinding yet he can’t look away. 

All d’Artagnan can think of is how he can avenge his father. 

Kill the man who wronged the stranger from the previous night. 

Of course the world chooses to laugh at him. The knife only makes Charles question how it came to be like this. 

It’s not enough. 

It never is. The confusion only morphs with the anger, frustration bubbling to the point where he isn’t sure what he  _ can  _ do. Athos will die and Charles will get the closure. 

Surely it is the just thing to do? 

Again and again the world only seems to make it a challenge. Charles  _ knows  _ he owes Constance his life (in more ways than one) but he needs to get going. 

* * *

D’Artagnan isn’t sure how he finds the Musketeer Garrison. Without much of a thought, he storms in, the very blood of his father is on his hands again. He can’t breath, the scene playing out in his mind. Yet he somehow manages to get into the yard without everything becoming far too overwhelming. 

“I’m looking for Athos,” he announces, voice stable despite everything. 

“You’ve found him,” one of the Musketeers responds, annoyance penetrating every word. It feels like a mockery. 

He tries to keep the very emotions swirling in his chest from bursting. For a moment, d’Artagnan sees red.  _ How dare this man seem so nonchalant?  _

“My name is d’Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony. Prepare to fight, one of us dies here.” 

There’s a pause for a moment. 

“Can I ask why?” 

_ Why?  _

“You  _ murdered  _ my father,” he spits, gripping the very blade tight in his hands. D’Artagnan ignores how his hands shake. This will be worth it, he repeats in his mind. 

Athos only seems more confused than naught. 

“You’re mistaken,” the man says. “I’m not the man you’re looking for.” 

He only sees red, screaming to charge without a care in this world. There is  _ nothing  _ left for him. D’Artagnan has no one he can turn to, he’s left with  _ ashes.  _ The musketeer only parries each blow, balanced yet with enough force to make his arm hurt. 

The gascon ignores it. 

There’s one moment. 

A ceasefire. 

He’s already out of breath yet Athos doesn’t seem to break a sweat. It shouldn’t make the blood rush up to his head as it does. 

“Do you deny you shot Alexandre d’Artagnan two days ago in cold blood?” 

“I usually remember the name of the men I kill,” Athos admits. “That name means nothing to me.” 

Something in Charles snaps, like an axe smashing onto a twig. 

He stops thinking, only trying to land one hit on the musketeer. Surely if he tries hard enough, it will happen? 

It doesn’t. 

Instead the very ground tilts on its axis. Athos somehow pins him to the closest wall. He doesn’t know how it came to be. How something so simple would turn around to  _ this _ . 

“Don’t make me kill you over a mistake,” the man mutters. 

D’Artagnan wants to scoff, wants to laugh at the irony of the words. Yet when the man’s cold blue eyes gaze over him, he can’t look away. Then, fire burns through his veins again because the very world is laughing and he throws the blade without any hesitation. 

His father never deserved to die the way he did. 

“That could have been your back,” he announces, frustration mounting again. “Now, fight me or die on your knees.” 

The other musketeers glance between themselves. An unspoken agreement yet he could care less. It’s not like he has much to lose anymore. 

“I don’t care which. No?”

He simply throws himself forward, the adrenaline being the only thing keeping the forward momentum. D’Artagnan can barely feel his arms, but he needs to do this for his father- 

It goes south. 

Apparently, he can’t simply fight three well trained men on his own, no matter how much he wants to. All his muscles scream at the exertion. 

Again, Constance saves his life. Her voice cuts through the growing fog in his brain clearing at something familiar again. 

* * *

The world turns on its axis again. There’s too much information for him to absorb. 

Athos is guilty of murder. 

He should feel relief. 

Except his heart twists at the thought. It  _ shouldn’t _ . D’Artagnan should be grateful that this is happening, not the growing pit of dread that all of this is all horribly wrong. 

The musketeer is to be killed at dawn. 

D’Artagnan doesn’t know what to think, the entire day wiping his mind blank. The moment he pauses to ponder, everything closes in around him. Every wall only seems to laugh at him as he tries to block everything around him. 

His father’s death- 

The murder in the morning- 

Athos getting arrested for something he apparently never did- 

God, his legs hurt. His mind aches. The swirling of emotions only shifting yet he can’t parse through them. It’s only now that d’Artagnan realizes how little rest he has gotten. 

One thing is clear though, the two other musketeers need his help, even if d’Artagnan doesn’t want to. 

-

The world rotates again and the very wind seems to be knocked out from his chest. 

It isn’t Athos. It’s someone else instead. 

Aramis and Porthos seem happy with the conclusion yet he can’t wrap his mind around all this.  _ Why  _ was his father killed? It doesn’t add up yet he shakes his head. 

Soon. 

Soon, he will avenge his father for good, damn the consequences. 

-

Somehow the two musketeers manage to capture someone from the inside of the job. D’Artagnan supposes he shouldn’t question their methods. 

After all, it has brought him right in front of the gates which house his father’s actual killer. It’s some man called Gaudet. 

Revenge has never tasted so sweet. 

As he glances at the others, he notes how bored they look. Determined yet this seems like something they do everyday (maybe they do). The issue is breaking in. 

An idea crosses into his mind. It just may work. Hopefully Constance doesn’t hate him for this. 

-

“Fifty sous and they said they’ll take to heaven,” Constance announces, confident as she smiles at the guard. 

“Are you one of those religious nutcases?” 

“It was a metaphor.” 

Then the guard’s knocked out, they’re  _ in _ . D’Artagnan really does owe her so much more than he can give. It’s a debt, one that he promises to give back one day. 

“It was for Athos,” she says instead. 

He’s not sure how to thank her. The door is open staring back, the torches leading the way to their target. To Gaudet. D’Artagnan grips his pistol and rapier harder as the gates swallow the four of them whole. 

It’s straight into a snake’s pit and it’s too late to turn back. 

All d’Artagnan can hope is that they find what they need. And he can get closure for his father’s death. 

The torches only wave back as they stride further into the ruins. 

\- 

Seeing Gaudet flaunting in under the torchlight makes his very blood boil. 

“Surprise will be everything,” Aramis murmurs, glancing at Porthos then at him. 

D’Artagnan truly does not have the patience for this. Before he even knows it, he’s charging in screaming for murder. 

“Gaudet!” he shouts, determination burning through his veins. 

The red guard turns around, brows furrowing in annoyance. 

“What’s your problem boy?” the man snarls. 

“You’ll  _ pay  _ for murdering my father-” 

He doesn’t think, he just pulls out his blade. Finally, after everything, the one who deserves to be punished will get what he deserves. D’Artagnan swings. Gaudet takes a step back and the very sounds of metal clanging against each other rings through the small area. 

Where Gaudet runs off to, he follows. 

The fire burning in his veins finally erupts. For days, he’s kept it under the surface, all the emotion for it to be unleashed. 

Yet just like before, Gaudet parries each blow. D’Artagnan only sees red. The sound of rapiers clashing and muskets firing as the backdrop as he only focuses on his only target. 

Just as it starts, it ends. 

His father is avenged. Constance only looks at him, a lost look in her eyes. Charles sees blood on his hands again. There is no sense of closure. 

No moment where he feels as though  _ it’s done _ . 

All he has is more blood on his hands. Surely, he’s gotten the vengeance but a part of his mind can’t help but wonder how much it cost him. As if on autopilot, he stumbles his way over to Constance. 

Each step only has the walls coming in to swallow everything whole. 

He’s not angry, he’s  _ tired.  _

As they walk Constance back to her home, his mind only swirls and swirls. Each step echoing through his world as it once again, turns on its axis. 

* * *

The trip back to the Chatelet is a blur. D’Artagnan is barely concentrating with what-ifs spinning in his mind. Each scenario makes the pit in his stomach grow. It’s his fault indirectly, isn’t it? 

What if they were too late? 

He  _ needs  _ to apologize. 

-

Somehow, they make it in time. D’Artagnan can practically feel a weight lifting off from his chest, the pit in his stomach disappearing. All he hopes is that Athos will not hold this against him. 

The three musketeers smile, jesting among each other. The relief is practically rolling off of them in waves. It makes him smile. 

Then it hits him. 

He’s in Paris without anyone else. There won’t be anyone waiting back in Gascony. D’Artagnan pushes the thought aside. He’ll think about it later. 

For now, he’s going to enjoy this (even if it only lasts minutes). 

Athos looks as tired as always, disengaging from his two friends to see him. The eye bags on the man’s face are more obvious than ever. D’Artagnan swallows his regrets as the musketeer glances over at him. 

There’s a faint nod. 

An understanding and thanks. 

It makes his heart burst at the seams even as he pushes the thoughts of his father away. There is closure and he can breath again. D’Artagnan can’t look away as Athos strides away. He can breathe again. 

For the moment, Charles d’Artagnan’s world rights itself again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *waves* 
> 
> This is all thanks to the enabler chat in discord (love y'all) that this fic got written at the speed of light. Would not have been written without your constant cheering <3 
> 
> Now the entire premise of exploring d'Artagnan has been living in my head rent free and I only *just* got it down lol. Comments are serotonin and keeps me writing!! 
> 
> Yell with me on twitter, tumblr or discord! Always here to yell about this show <3  
> Twitter: @Evekle1  
> Tumblr: evekle  
> discord: EliNLE #2838


End file.
